


Love and Loathing with Zellua Zoldyck

by TheMagicHoboTMH



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Action, Adventure, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Training, Twins, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicHoboTMH/pseuds/TheMagicHoboTMH
Summary: The Zoldyck family produces professional, world-class assassins. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it'll be for the twins Killua and Zellua. All they can do is endure the training, do the job, and decide whether they'll suffer or prosper, together or apart.





	Love and Loathing with Zellua Zoldyck

**9 Months Old**

  
She liked her blanket. It was warm. It was soft. It made her happy. She liked being happy. She liked her blanket.

The comfort disappeared. She started crying.

She decided to look for it. She looked up. In front of her was the other. The other had her blanket. That made her angry. She quit crying. She didn’t cry when she was angry.

The other was like her except not her. The other was warm and good to sleep with, like her blanket. The other also tended to take her things and be annoying, unlike her blanket. Therefore, her blanket was the superior entity.

She crawled towards the other who looked up at her in confusion. She reached for her blanket, her fingers brushed its warmth, and then it flew away. She was paralyzed with confusion for a few moments. She looked back to the other who was regarding her with interest and a growing smile. She didn’t know why he was smiling, she wasn’t happy. In his other hand she saw her blanket.

She crawled towards it and the other smiled more widely. She reached out to grab it and it disappeared once again. She was confused again. The other made a noise and she turned to look at him.

He was laughing and smiling brightly at her. In his other hand was her blanket. She was uncertain as to how her blanket was teleporting from place to place, but she assumed it involved the other. Who was still laughing at her. She reached out and slapped the other in the mouth. Maybe that would shut him up.

He did stop laughing, and for a moment she was pleased with herself. Then, her blanket appeared in front of her and she was elated! She should have slapped the other sooner! However, just as soon as the blanket appeared, it disappeared. She followed it with her eyes as it slipped between the bars that formed the border of her world. She crawled over to the bars and looked down.

There, in a heap, sat her blanket. She reached through the bars for it, but it was far out of her grasp. She was sad. Her favorite thing in the world was gone forever.

She looked back to other. Maybe the blanket would teleport back to him? The other was glaring at her, more importantly, her blanket was nowhere to be seen.

She started crying.

The other looked pleased.

She kept crying. And crying. And crying. Her whole world was crying and missing her blanket, the other was forgotten.

Beyond her tears where she couldn’t see, the other was looking less pleased.

At first he had been happy to get back at the creature that slapped him, but it wouldn’t stop crying now! For some reason, it made him want to cry too.

He considered what to do. She had wanted the blanket. That made sense to him, the blanket was warm like she was. They were both good to sleep with. He was warm too, maybe he could make her warm like the blanket and she would quit crying.

He crawled towards her and grabbed her. He pulled her towards him as strongly as he could. She struggled for a little while. It was annoying, so he held her tighter and made the “Hush!” noise that the big people made to him sometimes. She stilled and slapped at his side while huffing angrily.

This wasn’t working. He started to pull away to consider something else, but as he did so she pushed forward and grabbed him tightly. “Blan-ke.” She muttered and snuggled into him.

He smiled for some reason and wrapped his arms around her. He tucked her head into the crook of his neck and they laid down together. Sleep found them quickly, for they were both emotionally exhausted. But before it did they both internally agreed that this situation was an acceptable substitute for a blanket.

* * *

**1 Year and 7 Months**

 

“Ki-wa!” Zellua shouted in annoyance and extended her hand, palm up, “Give back!” She demanded. A few feet away her brother was holding her favorite doll. He had seemingly picked it up simply as a byproduct of him looking around for some other toy, but when she saw it in his hand she had reflexively demanded it. Killua had a habit of ruining her toys. She thought she had hidden it well enough to keep it safe from him, but evidently she had carelessly left it on the floor while playing with the blocks. A grievous error.

Killua turned to her in confusion. When he saw her outstretched hand a spark entered his eyes. He looked down to the doll in his hand and smirked, “No.” He said simply and looked back to her, eager to see her reaction.

She realized her mistake immediately and cringed. Killua laughed evilly and held the doll in front of him. He imitated her voice, “Ki-wa~” He articulated the doll’s head to mime her talking. “Give. Back~” He snickered.

She made to move towards the doll, but stopped when he immediately grabbed the doll’s head so that the slightest addition of strength would decapitate it. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to imitate their big brother Illumi. He did the same.

The atmosphere changed from a routine childish spat to a contest of wills between fighters. A normal outside observer would probably note the coldness in the children’s eyes was disturbingly violent. Already their gaze and demeanor, the product of months of desensitization and pain threshold training, were at such a level as to be able to evoke discomfort in the average adult.

Careful not to make any forward movement, Zellua walked to the toy box beside her while keeping her eyes trained on her precious doll and devious brother. Without looking she reached in and grabbed a small wooden yo-yo. Smirking cruelly, she placed the toy on the lip of the box and pushed up the toy box’s lid. Now positioned, she could at any moment throw down the lid with her full strength and smash the toddler-size yo-yo between the lid and the lip. Killua frowned, his gaze flicking to his own precious toy.

Zellua pointed to her doll and then the yo-yo, “Trade.” She commanded.

For several long moments nothing happened. They both contemplated breaking the other’s toy out of pride and the mantra that was constantly beaten into them, “He who strikes first, wins.” Ultimately, they both resolved to betray the other and reclaim their toy while destroying their enemy’s as punishment for daring to threaten them.

Killua nodded in acceptance of the hostage trade and proceeded forward at a casual pace. When he was at arm’s length he thrust the doll towards his twin. She eyed him warily for a few seconds before tentatively reaching out her free hand to grasp the proffered treasure. She realized she’d made a mistake when the light of satisfaction sparked in Killua’s eyes, but by then it was too late, his plan was in motion.

In a flash, the neck of the doll was fit snugly around the lip of the toy box and his other hand was shooting towards his yo-yo. Zellua’s own trap was turned against her. If she wanted to punish Killua for his brazen challenge she’d have to destroy her own toy, and when he had his yo-yo safely in hand he’d need only pull the doll and the head would come popping off. Plus, Zellua only had a moment to consider everything. Surprise, rescue, and threat in one quick set of actions, the perfect plan. At least, that’s what Killua thought.

His plan relied on Zellua being hesitant to destroy that which was most precious to her, and she was. He simply misjudged what was most precious to his twin. He assumed it was the doll. She was always playing with it. Dressing it up, pretending to dance with it, using it to mime conducting assassinations at toy tea parties, all things that indicated to Killua that it was her favorite. What his young mind did not quite grasp was that the item that compelled her to constantly rise to his challenges and put her own challenges to him was the one most important to her. That item being her pride. His clever ploy was a direct insult to her intelligence, he assumed she didn’t see the exploitable weakness in her trap, and her resolve, he assumed she would be too soft to destroy her own toy.

That incensed Zellua. And so, without a second thought, she slammed the lid of the toy box down with all the strength she could muster. Three sounds instantly filled the playroom. First, the crack of the wooden yo-yo receiving a fatal fracture. Second, the squish of the doll’s neck being irreparably deformed and all but totally annihilated. Third, the meaty slap of the box’s lid pressing against Killua’s left arm, which had been reaching across to grab his yo-yo, and forcing it against the rim of the box.

Zellua was abnormally strong for her age, the product of Zoldyck genes and rearing that had focused heavily on physicality and violence, but she was still only a toddler. This was no comfort to Killua who, shocked out of his deviousness by the injury, looked to his twin sister with an open, quivering mouth and wide eyes that were starting to water. He was the picture of disbelief and betrayal.

The clear hurt on his face was itself an attack on Zellua, who instantly regretted her actions. She threw open the lid with more force than she had closed it and ran to her brother’s side. Killua himself was grasping his wounded arm at the elbow with his other hand as he hissed in pain and tears started flowing down his cheeks. The damage was confined to the forearm and consisted of a jagged, mushy laceration that was already bleeding rather heavily and the bruise growing around it. Zellua thought she was going to throw up as she stared, uncomprehending, at the injury she had inflicted. I did that. Was the only thing going through her mind.

By this point, the butler who had been watching over them as they played had rushed over and was examining the wound. Killua’s eyes were screwed shut, though tears still squeezed out of them, and his whole face was grimacing in pain. He variably groaned and hissed as the servant wrapped a makeshift cloth bandage around the wound, but he forced his mouth to stay shut. He adamantly refused to cry out or sob in pain.

Zellua continued to regard the scene in front of her with emotional numbness. She put up no resistance as the butler quickly checked her over for any injuries and her arms fell limply back to her sides, much like a rag doll’s, when the servant released them after her hurried examination. In only a moment the butler, Killua cradled in her arms, was out of the door, leaving Zellua to observe the fractured yo-yo, the nearly decapitated doll, and the slightly splintered portion of the toy box that was stained with her brother’s blood. The sound of the wood impacting Killua’s soft flesh and his face of absolute betrayal flashed through her mind and she did throw up.

When she’d emptied her stomach she weakly fell to her knees and dry-heaved a few more times for good measure. She felt a few hot tears slip out of her eyes and balled her hands in anger at her own weakness. Assassins don’t cry. That’s what Mother and Onii-san said. She wiped her eyes roughly and forced the tears back. Her eyes fell upon the damaged doll that had instigated the whole incident and before she even realized she’d started moving she was stomping it savagely. The plastic put up little resistance to her shoe and after a minute it was an unrecognizable, lumpy slab of plastic.

She looked down at the carcass with the same cold regard she’d given her brother earlier when he’d held the toy hostage. She picked it and considered the next method she’d use to vent her emotions on it. She turned and was startled to notice a butler had slipped into the playroom without her notice and was standing by the door, regarding her impassively. He must have entered while I was stomping the doll. She frowned, annoyed at her lapse in situational awareness. She pointed at the servant, “You,” she pointed at the plastic in her hand, “burn this.”

The butler quirked an eyebrow at the request, but he bent down to accept the mangled doll from Zellua’s outstretched hand, “As you wish, Zellua-sama.” He tucked it somewhere in his coat.

Zellua was about to amend her order to convey that she wanted it burned right now, but stopped when a much more appealing idea entered her mind. She turned on her heels and marched over to the mortally wounded yo-yo. She picked it up reverently, careful to avoid further damage, and cradled it in both of her hands. She presented it to the butler, “Fix this?”

He leaned down to gather the toy, treating it with the same care as his charge, and inspected it for a few moments, “I’m not certain it can be repaired, Zellua-sama.” Noticing the flash of disappointment on her face, he added softly, “But I am certain we can get a new one for you.”

Zellua considered the offer and decided that she would present Killua with the original yo-yo as repaired as possible and a replacement. She nodded at the butler, “Try both. Now.”

“Very well, Zellua-sama.” He tucked the damaged yo-yo into another coat pocket and then picked up Zellua.

* * *

**1 Hour Later**

 

Killua schooled his expression as they drew near the door to his and his twin’s room. He refused to show another iota of pain to Zellua, it felt like losing for some reason, and he hated losing, especially to her. The butler carrying him moved to open the door but he moved his hand to stop her, “Put me down.” She complied and he adjusted the bandages on his arm, allowing himself a last grimace as the motion shot a deep ache through his arm. When he finished, he motioned towards the door, “Open.” And the butler opened the door for him.

He walked in casually, his uninjured arm’s hand in his pants pocket. Zellua was the only other person in the room. She was standing in front of the nightstand by her bed looking at him coolly, though Killua noticed her gaze avoided his eyes and lingered on his wounded arm. He kept moving toward his own bed and, as he drew closer, he noticed two yo-yos laid out on top of it. He kept his expression neutral but, for reasons he couldn’t decipher, he wanted to both frown and smile.

Now at his own bed, he examined both of the yo-yos. They were both wooden and appeared to be identical models. However, they were distinguished by the large, jagged crack filled with light brown epoxy and the nicks and scratches that existed on his original. He picked up the original, not showing it any special care, and experimented with it a little. It had a little wobble when it fell and Killua imagined one decent hit would reopen the crack. He put it back and picked up the new one. He performed the same test and found it to be perfectly balanced and very responsive, more than his old one had been even when it was new.

He shrugged, placed the new one in his pocket, and took the old one in his uninjured hand. He turned around, facing Zellua, and ambled towards her. She met his eyes and regarded him without expression. When he was only a couple of feet away she opened the drawer of her nightstand and placed her left arm in it, forearm between the lip of the drawer and the body of the nightstand. He heard the butler, who had taken her place by the door, move toward them, “Zellua-sa-” She was silenced and halted when Zellua’s head whipped towards her, fixing her with the cold glare that oozed intent to kill. He heard the butler gulp.

Killua never took his eyes off Zellua, “Leave.” He commanded easily.

After a few tense seconds the servant complied and slipped out of the door, “I’ll be just outside.” She said uneasily as she left.

Zellua turned back to Killua, expression returned to its previous impassiveness, but he noticed fear in her eyes. He considered the situation. He was still angry at his sister, when he’d first entered he’d been quite a bit more angry, but her yo-yo offerings had pacified him substantially. A part of him wanted inflict the same pain on her that she’d inflicted on him, wanted to see the same hurt and confusion in her eyes that he was sure she’d seen in his. But when he imagined her looking at him like that he felt queasy.

He frowned and moved his hand towards the drawer, he saw her mostly suppress a flinch and he had to suppress one of his own. He moved his hand past the drawer and over her arm, then he released the body of the yo-yo and let it fall limply to impact her forearm with all the force of a moderate gust of wind. Before she could say or do anything he moved his arm to her chest and pushed her, and she fell back a few inches until she hit the side of her bed. He closed the drawer of the nightstand and snorted, “Baka.” And walked back to his own bed, shaking his head.

He had just crawled under the sheets when he felt something impact the side of his mattress. He looked over to see Zellua had buried her face into his bed. She mumbled something that have been, “Sorry,” but he couldn’t be sure. He rolled his eyes and brought down his good arm to clonk her on the side of the head. She looked up, annoyed, and he offered his hand to her. She accepted and climbed into the bed with him.

He moved over to make more room for her but she scooted closer to him. She laid her arms across his chest, tangled her legs with his, and pressed her face into his chest, “I’m sorry.” She definitely mumbled.

Killua put his good arm around her and snuggled into her hair, “S’okay.” He mumbled. He felt her relax as soon as he said it and only then realized just how tense she’d been. He pulled her tighter into him, and a minute later they were both soundly asleep. 


End file.
